


Gossamer

by Astereae



Category: Voltron - Fandom
Genre: AU, E.D. Baker's "fairy wings", Fairy AU, Fantasy AU, Guess who's back bitch, It makes sense, M/M, Magic AU, Multi, and mike and mrs willowbury, anyways based off, but im changing it cause its ME, dance au, hells yea, it a me, it is an au of an au??, keith is like part cat i guess, lance has wings, like lowkey, please just trust me, putting graphic descriptions o violence there cause again its me, shakespeare au, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12688260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astereae/pseuds/Astereae
Summary: Lance sat in the middle of the street, whimpering, as he waited for the strange storm to subside. When the last of the not-children left his sight, he stumbled to his feet, tears drying on his face. As he trudged home, he made a solemn oath to himself.He was never,ever, going trick-or-treating again.





	1. Audition

**Author's Note:**

> hey it's a aster back with another au!! I'm still working on Seven, so i decided to take a break and work on this mess that i've been planning for a couple months!! After blrb, i really wanted a fluffy ass au so this is what you get!!
> 
> Yep have fun

Lance had been ten when he first saw _them_. He didn’t remember it particularly well, although it haunted his dreams for years to come. Halloween night- he was trick or treating with his best friend, Pidge, and his sister with her two kids. Pidge was talking about her new invention- something about spring power and the flexibility of one kind of silicon to another,

He still remembered his costume, the shirt and pants that he and his mothers had spent hours crafting to look like leaves and the glossy wings that wouldn’t stand up right no matter how much crafting wire he’d shoved into them.

“Pidge,” he said, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Those kids...” his friend Pidge was one of the most scrutinous and observant people he knew.

“What about them?”

“They’re... different.” One of the boys had too many joints in his elbows, a girl with long, soft ears like a rabbits.

Pidge shrugged. “Good makeup.”

A little indian girl, dressed as a mouse, looked at him, and her nose twitched.

“Maria!” He said, grabbing his sister’s wrist. “That girl’s nose just moved!”

“Hush, Lancito, it’s rude to stare.” He glared at his older sister for another second before huffing and moving along.

It was Halloween night, so the animal children were quickly forgotten as Lance explored other exploits. That is, until he saw the many jointed boy atop a hill, ripping trash from a bin, throwing it around. He stopped and stared, feeling frozen and terrified. Pidge and Maria moved past him, and he barely noticed, watching the silhouette.

“She sees me!” Shouted the _them_.

At that exact instant, Lance learned that his fight or flight instinct was set fairly permanently to flight.

He bolted down the street. In every shadow, he saw more animal children, and every time he looked back, the crowd chasing him seemed to grow. He tripped over an uneven end of sidewalk and fell flat to the ground, the knees in both of his pant legs ripping, hot pain flaring up his legs. His pursuers cried out with glee. Hastily, he scrambled to his feet, and took off running. He made it downtown, passing the food’n’stuff, the bank, the library, before exhausting himself at a park that he’d seldom been too.

“What do you want?” He screamed at the hoard of not-children.

They provided him no answer, simply howling.

“Go away!” He shouted, his voice cracking with tears. The hoard whooped and cheered and fell on him, a mess of teeth and nails and fur. Lance screamed, and a bolt of lightning cracked down and struck a tree. The not-children scattered from it like ants straying from a finger in an ant war on the sidewalk.

“Go!” He screamed again, and another bolt fell. The not-children whimpered, and more lightning hit the area around them.

Lance sat in the middle of the street, whimpering, as he waited for the strange storm to subside. When the last of the not-children left his sight, he stumbled to his feet, tears drying on his face. As he trudged home, he made a solemn oath to himself.

He was never, _ever_ , going trick-or-treating again.

Four years later, Lance watched out a car window at a street lit up in the colors of fall, a single tree charred and naked, standing out from its colorful neighbors. He shivered, touching his bicep, where there was a faint white scar from teeth or nails or whatever else. He had another similar scar, on his cheek, but that had been there as long as he could remember.

His teeth felt fuzzy, still, from the dentist’s. He always hated the feeling, like the inside of his mouth was no longer his.

“Lance,” his mother said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Mom.” He said. “I’ve been waiting for this day since school began.” The fact that the dentist’s appointment had been the same day was an unfortunate happenstance.

The “this” that his mother referred to was dance auditions for the school’s dance team- they had several, ballroom, cheer, hip hop, even colorguard might’ve suited him if it weren’t for the fact that he’d gotten twenty bruises from just trying to help his friend Plax with her equipment. No, none of those would fit. The only spot for Lance, he knew, was on the contemporary team, because his dance style couldn’t be restricted by the tight technique of any other style.

He’d never had any formal training in dance. His family had been too poor for a while, and by the time they had the money, no dance teacher would dare try and sharpen his technique past how severely he’d twisted it.

Because his dancing was beautiful, although it had never been necessarily right.

His mother bringing it up tightened his chest. The contemporary team was traditionally reserved for Juniors and Seniors, and he was a freshman. He forced himself to breathe, slowly, calmly.

He’d been dancing since he was six.

He’d be fine.

Lance watched the trees and bushes as they drove out to the high school. He saw faces in the bushes- round with weird ears and fur. He looked away, swallowing the strange taste in his mouth.

It was better if they didn’t catch you staring.

His mom dropped him off at the high school with a wave, and he smiled back before putting his earbuds in and playing his routine music. It was soft and sweet, a folksy sound. It reminded him of rainy days and mountains. A sad sound.

The first time he could remember dancing was in the mountains.

While Mason and Arlette still lived with them, they’d gone hiking. Their campsite was on the edge of a lake, a great expanse of smooth and shiny black water in the night. Lance had heard music outside, like a harp, and had gone to investigate. What he found outside was a trail of small, golden lights. He’d followed them to the edge of the lake, where they led him through motions that felt as natural as the water itself. Mason was the one who eventually found him, hot from the movement and surrounded by fireflies.

The next morning, he woke up with light spots all over his face that sparkled like Arlette’s body glitter.

After that, he danced every full moon, the same routine, although it never bored him. His parents grew concerned, not just about the small Lance sneaking out in the middle of the night to dance, but about the mass of fireflies that he amassed when he did. Eventually, they child-proofed the doors.

Lance danced inside that night, his limbs smacking into the furniture with abandon. Eventually, they converted the empty basement into a studio for him to dance in.

His routine for the audition was not the same, although the movements echoed it. It was one of his favorite routines to dance, and he knew people would be able to tell.

He was walking to the dance studio when Pidge barrelled into him. It had taken a week of persuasion to get Pidge to audition with him.

“Hey, birdy.” Lance said with a smile. “You ready?”

“Oh, no. I’m just going to fall on my face and everyone is going to laugh. But that’s not the point. The point is, are you ready?”

“Course.” Lance said with a cocky grin. “I was born ready.”

The truth, of course, was that his stomach was full of knots. Maybe his dancing wouldn’t be the problem, but maybe that he was a guy- as far as he could tell, the dance team didn’t accept guys. Maybe that was because none auditioned. But Lance didn’t know.

Just one way to find out.

They made their way to the auditions, and Lance found their orders. He was squarely in the middle. Good. That was good. Pidge was before him, third or so.

“Oh, I’m gonna be sick.” Pidge said.

“Don’t worry.” Lance said. “It’s just about fun.”

“For you, maybe.” Pidge wrung her hands.

“Come on,” Lance said, pulling his friend over to the seats. He saw some juniors- girls already on the team. They eyed him and Pidge, so he eyed them back.

Now it was just waiting.

Shit.

When the called Pidge’s name, he patted her on the back, and watched him go into the school’s studio. He heard the strains of music he’d selected for him play and smiled.

When Pidge emerged, sweaty and flushed, she walked straight to Lance and collapsed in the chair next to him.

“How’d it go?” Lance asked.

“I fell on my butt right after the first turn.” Pidge said. “And then I couldn’t get back into the music. I’m pretty sure they were just trying not to laugh.”

“I’m sure you did-”

“Don’t even, Lance. I didn’t really want to get in anyways. Besides, the computer club will take up way more of my time. I don't think I could do both. Either way, I’m certain you’ll kill it.”

“Thanks, bud.” Lance said, looking at the closed door.

Fifteen minutes later, they called his name. Pidge patted him on the back and he gulped, standing and going in.

He reminded himself to breathe, and squared his shoulders before walking in.

He gave someone his phone to play the music before standing square in the middle of the floor.

“Hi, I’m Lance McClain, I’m a freshman and I love to dance.” He’d had a whole speech planned, but he choked on the words. “Uh, yeah.” He nodded to the person who had his phone, and the music played.

The guitar started soft, and he began to move.

There was a teacher and three seniors watching. As soon as he began to dance, he forgot them, their eyes, and just felt the music, the vocalist’s heartbreak, channeling it through him.

 _A dancers job_ , he thought, _is to make a deaf person hear the music._ It was a quote he had written everywhere, on his walls and in his notebooks, something he planned to eventually get tattooed somewhere on his person.

When he leaped, his first jump, he heard their chattering go quiet- he hadn’t even realized they’d been talking. From then on, he knew he had their attention. When the last strains of music faded, he held his ending position until one of the senior girls began clapping.

“Well,” she said with a smile unlike what she’d been wearing when he’d walked in. “We don’t usually let freshmen in, or boys, for that matter, but we’ll see about you.”

Lance’s grin split his face.

“Thanks so much!” He said with a smile and wave.

He left the audition room quickly, not sure if it was the temperature or his face that was making him feel so hot.

Pidge smiled wide at him. Lance smiled back.

He was just going to walk straight home, but he heard one of Plax’s (and his) old friends talking- Mike- to one of his new friends.

“Have you seen the new boy?”

“Yeah, he’s like, a bad boy supreme. His name is Keith or something, but he had a different name on his notebook- Mamora. Super mysterious. Wonder where he came from.”

“I don’t know, but apparently he has buckets of money.”

Lance scoffed. Any boy who attracted Mike was probably bad news. And an entitled rich boy punk? Not the type of person he was in the business of caring about.

The next morning, Lance took every bit of effort in him not to rush to see the audition results. He tried to play it off cool, taking a drink of water by the post, but Pidge ran straight up to it, and people moved for her.

“Great news!” She said.

“Did you get in?” Lance asked.

“Ha! No. But you did! Top of the list.”

“No way!”

Yeah!” Pidge said, holding up her hand for a high-five. Lance obliged, the resulting smack a very satisfying one. “Race you to physics!”

“Oh, you’re on, short stuff.”

Lance and Pidge took off down the halls, skidding around corners.

On one of said corners, Lance ran straight into a boy. Both of them went sprawling, the books the boy was holding scattered across the linoleum floor.

“ _Shit_ ,” the boy swore, recovering.

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” Lance said, getting to his knees and shuffling around to get some of the books.

The boy helped him to his feet, taking the books from him.

“I’m not ever really... uh... that clumsy.” Lance said, captivated by the boy’s face. Long black hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, angular features that directed to his slanted eyes, which were an impossible purple-sapphire. His smile was sharp, like some sort of big cat looking at his prey.

“Me neither.” Said the boy. “I’m Keith-o- uh... just Keith.”

“Uh... Lancarae.” Lance rolled his eyes. “But people call me Lance.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. You too.” Lance smiled, biting his lower lip for a second too long before the bell rang.

“Gotta blast! I’m late.”

“Oh.” Keith looked up at the speaker. “I guess I am too. I’m not really used to the bell system.”

“Well... see you around, Keith.” Lance said, brushing past him.

He fanned his cheeks on the way to his physics class. Mike had a point- that was one fine boy. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

He slid into his seat abashedly, and tried to pay attention.


	2. Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, sure, send Hunk. They say, Hunk, you gotta go, gotta go, leave the the land of fey, you know what he looks like, so of course you gotta go. Not like O-Marmora could’ve used that handy dandy device you made for him, of course not.” Lance looked behind him, a glance, really, to see a big not-child moving through the forest behind him. He almost looked like a bear. Lance’s chest tightened.
> 
> “Shit, shit shit.” He muttered. Should he go back and stay at Pidge’s? He started walking home- not his normal route, but it would get him there. Every block or so, he glanced back, and the bear-boy was still following, on the periphery of his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been... twelve hours. Anyways this is just going fast cause chapters are short and like,,,,,,, yea its just really easy and fast to write and the chapters are short cause this is a really fluffy fast thing
> 
> So ye

Lance!” Plaxum called. Lance looked up with a smile to his old friend. Her bright blue hair was braided over her shoulder, and her awkwardly long flag bag was slung over her shoulder, the jellyfish charm catching the light.

“Hey, Plax.” Lance said with a smile, tugging his hat further over his ears. “How was band practice?”

Plax groaned. “We just ran second movement. You know how I have to run halfway across the field? Yeah. That part.” Lance smiled sympathetically as he jogged to get to a comfortable distance. As he approached, he saw a familiar figure behind the tennis shack.

“Oh, right.” Plax said. “Have you met Keith yet?”

“Uh... yeah. We sorta ran into each other.”

“Literally.” Keith said.

“So... did you have Band too, or-”

“No, I was out in the woods. I mistook Plaxum for someone I knew.”

“Anyways,” Plax began, “Keith and I were thinking that-”

Keith lurched forward, almost rolling into Lance. An orange tabby wove between his feet.

“Geez, would you stop?” He asked, stepping over it, even as it followed his feet. He didn’t seem surprised. It occurred to Lance that this boy rarely was surprised by anything.

“Hey, Plaxum!” Mike called. Plax looked up, and her face soured.

“Hey.” She said. “Mike.”

“And the new boy, right? Keith.” His voice was jazzy and smooth, like how he used to talk with Plaxum. Lance didn’t like how he used it as a general rule.

“Yeah.” Keith said, watching Mike’s mouth. There were two black spikes under his lips.

“Anyway, Lance, we were planning to go to-”

Mike’s eyes slid to Lance as if he hadn’t noticed him before. “Jesus, Lance. Why are you here so late? Remedial courses or detention?”

“Dance.” Lance said, cold.

“Hey, Keith, just a word of advice. You’re never going anywhere if you keep hanging with kids like these. Not that they’re... delinquent, but they’re freaks. Just look at Lance’s ears!”

With no small amount of glee, he pulled the hat from Lance’s head. Cold hit his ears, and that meant that the world- more specifically Keith- could see them. And the pointed tip. Lance grabbed the beanie back from Mike, his cheeks flushed.

“Dammit, Mike.” Plax said. “You have a problem.”

“You have a worse one, with hair like that.”

“Lance! There you are!” Pidge said, bounding up to them. “Oh... hi, Mike.”

“Right, right. Keith, meet Pidge. Computer prodigy and scholarship kid.” Plax said. “Also, giant nerd and conspiracy theorist.”

“Hey.” Pidge said. Then she sneezed violently.

“Oh, bejeezus.” Lance said. “Bless you.”

“Blessed.” Pidge said, holding up a peace sign. She wiped her nose violently.

“Pidge, you good? Your eyes are puffy.”

“Yeah-” she sneezed again- “just allergies. But it isn’t really pollen season. And I’m not sure where there could be a cat?”

“Oh,” Keith said, stepping around the tabby, and another calico that had joined up. “I think that’s me.”

“Man, Pidge, I think I ought to get you home.” Lance said, then shot an apologetic smile to Keith and Plax. “See you guys around.”

“You really don’t look good.” Plax said.

“Well, she rarely does.” Mike said mean-spiritedly. “Once-”

Lance took them out of earshot.

“That boy is a fucking menace.” Pidge said. “Remember when he tried to pull off the tips of your ears in third grade?”

“Yeah.” Lance said. That event was what let him wear hats inside, unconditionally.

“Or when he teased you about your face when you came to school and it was all sparkly? You said you danced with fairies on a camping trip. And Mr. Iverson scrubbed your face till it was raw ’cause you wore makeup to school.”

“I remember.” Lance said sullenly. “Whether or not I want to.”

“And what about when you showed Matt...” Lance stopped listening as Pidge began to ramble. A branch cracked overhead, and Lance watched as a grubby brown figure disappeared into the bush. Another not-child? There were too many recently.

“And what the hell was up with Keith and those cats?” Pidge asked. Lance shrugged.

“Lance?”

“I dunno. It was kinda weird, for sure.”

“Oh god, you have the hots for him, don’t you?”

“Pardon?” Lance said, stopping suddenly.

“You. The new bad-boy. God, Lance, you’re such a cliché.”

“It’s not like that.” Lance protested. “I’ve talked to him twice. Doesn’t matter how cute he is. Or Mysterious.”

“Cliché.” Pidge reaffirmed.

“Pidge!” Lance shouted.

“Well, this is my stop, I guess I better go in and get some tissues.”

“Shit, Pidge.” Lance said, slapping her on the back as she ran up the stairs to her house.

“Oh, sure, send Hunk. They say, Hunk, you gotta go, gotta go, leave the the land of fey, you know what he looks like, so of course you gotta go. Not like O-Marmora could’ve used that handy dandy device you made for him, of course not.” Lance looked behind him, a glance, really, to see a big not-child moving through the forest behind him. He almost looked like a bear. Lance’s chest tightened.

“Shit, shit shit.” He muttered. Should he go back and stay at Pidge’s? He started walking home- not his normal route, but it would get him there. Every block or so, he glanced back, and the bear-boy was still following, on the periphery of his vision.

 _Calm down, Lancarae_. He thought, using his full name almost as an oath.

The route he was taking put him passed the Mason’s house. They had a big dog, named Kaltenecker, a real sweetheart to kids, but a holy terror to other animals.

Lance peeked into the fence. Kalt was asleep in her house. Quietly, his heart pounding, he made his way over the fence. He tip-toed to the other side of the Mason’s lawn, and the big bear-boy followed him over. Lance shouted, a short, loud sound, enough to wake Kalty. He scrambled over the fence.

“Oh, shit,” he heard the bear-boy’s voice. “No, no, get off. I- oh, by Oberon, get away.”

Lance kept glancing behind him as he took the back-way home. As far as he could tell, the not-child had lost track of him. He slipped into his house, dropped his backpack, and went downstairs to dance.

He hoped he would never be followed by one of those things again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry mike I destroyed your good qualities lmao.
> 
> Trust me about hunk.
> 
> And yea im just updating like snap snap snap. Sooooo just dont worry this is just fun and fast and i'll get to the good shit later :)


	3. Recital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Lance stood and brushed the setting powder off his costume, he felt an all too familiar ache.
> 
> “Dammit.” He swore out loud.
> 
> He’d worked so hard on this dance it was like his body knew nothing else. He’d dreamed of it. Sometimes it was hard for him to walk normally because of how compelled he was to dance.
> 
> And now, the night he’d waited for, that he’d broken his body to perfect.
> 
> And it was a full fucking moon.
> 
> Of course, why the fuck not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> third chapter in 24 hours. Prolly just because theyre short as hell and this stuff is fast and easy to write. It wont all be like this but for now yea
> 
> Almost to the beginning of the actual fantasy shit
> 
> Have the mcfun

Lance licked his lips, scratching his back nervously. Of course _of course_ he was nervous tonight.

“We’re smack center.” His mom said with a smile. Arlette rolled her eyes, and his niece and nephew clutched at his sweats.

“Yeah, of course.” Lance said. “But don’t wave. I don’t need that."

“You’re going to do great. I swear more than half the school is here.” Pidge said. “Including _Keith_.”

“Who’s Keith?” His mom asked.

“Whatever.” Lance said. “I’ve got to go get dressed.”

He plucked his little niece off his shoe and waved behind him as he disappeared down the hall.

He was one of four solo acts, his costume looking like water- a hundred shades of blue layered and twisting, the cloth going from one shoulder to the other leg, a sash crossing his opposite hip. He had his own act, and then joined the other four and the dance captain for the final act.

He was the only boy on the dance team, which meant he changed alone, applied his own makeup. He was very good at makeup, because of years of covering up his odd freckles- spreckles, as a young him had called them.

As he finished the last detail of his eyeliner, Melissa, the dance captain, knocked on his door.

“I’m decent!” He called.

“Hey, Lance, you’re up in two acts.”

“Thanks.” He said. “Good luck, by the way. Do you need me to help with your makeup after I’m done?”

Melissa laughed. “I’ll be fine, water boy.”

“Gee, thanks, space girl.”

As Lance stood and brushed the setting powder off his costume, he felt an all too familiar ache.

“Dammit.” He swore out loud.

He’d worked so hard on this dance it was like his body knew nothing else. He’d dreamed of it. Sometimes it was hard for him to walk normally because of how compelled he was to dance.

And now, the night he’d waited for, that he’d broken his body to perfect.

And it was a full fucking moon.

Of course, why the fuck not.

He resisted the urge to keep scratching his back and took deep, controlled breaths. He could do this. Twenty minutes and he could escape to the parking lot. Dance the moon dance there and his regular dance here.

Oh god, but he was shaking with the urge, the need to move his feet.

 _Breathe_ , he thought to himself, _twenty minutes._

He walked to the dancer’s entrance, holding his breath. To anyone else he’d just look nervous. He could feel the moon. Practically see it’s light.

“You’re going to do great!” Mrs. Johan said, patting him on the back. Sweat was already dripping down his neck in an effort not to dance.

“Thanks.” Lance said, barely a breath. The “air” group exited the stage, and he stepped on while the auditorium was in total darkness. He found the blue X on the floor that was just for him. There were three sources of light- one blue, one green, and one as white as the moon. As the music began, he lifted his head.

The first steps were simple, the ones he could control. But the first turn- he felt something loose. Suddenly he stopped doing the dance he’d practiced to perfection as started doing the one he knew he had to do. His movements were more graceful, his leaps were higher. He danced for the moon, just like the ocean did. As the music faded, so did his movements.

_Please dear god, let me have ended in the right spot._

Lance looked up as the audience exploded in applause.

He’d never danced in front of this many people in his life. God, before the audition, he’d never danced in front of someone who wasn’t family or close to it. And now dancing his moon dance in front of a whole crowd?

He felt naked.

He stood straight and did the choreography off the stage. The ‘water’ group followed him, the second to last dance.

He barely got off before he started to cry, tears pouring down his face and building up in his throat. Oh, god, he was going to be kicked off the dance group.

“I’m so sorry!” He gushed to Mrs. Johan. “I know I should’ve danced it the way you choreographed it, but I just had to dance it that way. I understand if you don’t want me on the group any more.” He hugged his arms. “I mean, you took a risk taking a freshie boy onto the group anyways, and-”

“Lance, god knows I should take you off the group. But half the school is in that audience. Not only half the school, but scholarship agents, recruiting agents. Our school’s dance company is prestigious. And how exactly can I kick you out when you showed every single person out there you’re the best dancer in my company?”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat.

“We’ll talk about what you did out there later. For now, you have another dance to perform.”

Lance gasped with relief.

“Go out. Show everyone what you’re made of.”

Lance smiled, joining the other dancer that made up the final act. The only other freshman in the group, an incredible dancer and the fire soloist, smacked his arm.

“That was rightfully fantastic.” She said, her slight british accent giving her words a bright lilt.

“Thanks, Lyra.” Lance said. “But concentrate.”

She took a deep breath.

“Yea yea yea.” She said.

The water dancers exited the stage. Lance closed his eyes.

They took the stage, the last dance one of just five dancers.

“Let’s kill it,” Melissa whispered, just so they could hear.

The lights turned on again, and Lance resisted the draw of the moon.

Outside, the parking lot was filled with little lanterns. Thousands of fireflies filled the sky.

Lance took a shuddering breath. His dancing had called them.

“I got one!” A little boy said, holding his cupped hands.

“Can I see?” Lance asked.

The boy stared at Lance. “You’re the good dancer, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be careful.”

The boy reluctantly handed Lance the firefly. Lance held it up to his eye. As he suspected, it wasn’t a firefly at all, but a little human figure with wings, which seemed to be generating the light. He let it fly off to the sky.

“Hey!” The boy protested. “That was mine!”

Lance held up his hands, which smelled of firefly. “Butter fingers.” He said.

He walked through the parking lot, everyone awed by the display of lights. There, in a darkened corner of the lot, by the forest, he saw Keith’s figure, turned towards the forest.

He jogged up to him, but stilled. Keith was turned towards the forest, talking to someone- Lance felt a heavy weight in his chest, combined with the growing discomfort of his itching back- because it was someone, that is, or something.

“They didn’t need to send you!”

“And I didn’t wanna come! I tell you, they forced me through that gate, I swear.”

“I have it under control.”

“Yeah, have you been using the fey fraunhofer?”

“Of course, it helped me find him in the first place, but-”

“Yeah, and I told you that’s all I could do!”

“Then why are you here, Hunk?”

“They said cause I seen him, I could help you find him. Which I dispute, because the feyhofer- which is what I call it- is far more accurate.”

“Go back home.”

“I gotta help you get him.”

“Wait a bit. I gotta go, alright, Hunk?”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll just spend another night in the woods.”

“Hey, Keith!” Lance said, acting as if he’d just shown up.

“Oh, Lance!” Keith said. “Just who I wanted to see. I loved your dance.”

“Thanks! Didn’t go down exactly as I’d hoped, though.”

“No! It was very... shit, um... eloquent?”

Lance hoped he couldn’t see his blush in the low light. “Oh, I’m glad you liked it.”

“Of course! For the first time since I moved here, I realized what it meant to be homesick.”

“Oh, fuck, it made you feel bad?”

“No! Just... I didn’t realize there was much to be sick for till now.”

“Oh, that’s...”

“Do you... want to get a bite to eat? We could-”

“Lance! We’re going home!” Arlette called.

“... talk.” Keith finished, half-heartedly.

“Sorry, I gotta go.” Lance said, going to join his family. Keith stayed where Lance left him, looking forlorn.

Lance itched his shoulder absent mindedly.

Keith could see the _them_ too.

Keith knew the _them_.

And, most importantly, he and the bear boy referred to the same place as _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls comment! I kno i dont have half the following ive had on other fics by the third chapter. Because,, i usually wait a week? So anyhoo yea idk just go at it i kno it aint so good yet just trust the process trust the process


	4. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stumbled into the bathroom and peeled off his sweat covered shirt. The redness was gone, but his back was split open, two slits about a foot long and two centimetres wide, filled with a glossy blue substance.
> 
> “Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “It’s like some shit from Alien, jesus.” Against his better judgement, he poked one of the holes, the wider one. A blue glob fell out, pressure he didn’t know he had relieving. It hung from his back, formless and crumpled.
> 
> “If this shit becomes sentient and eats me, I guess I’m screwed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to get to the adventure part dont judge me

He hadn’t had the dream in a while, which meant it was more than due for him to have it again.

He felt young, worthless. Like he was trapped in a child’s body.

There were two women, soft voice, a ring, hands covered in white fur.

A blanket wrapped around him, swaddling him, and until then he didn’t realize he’d been cold.

He grabbed at the woman’s face, and she tickled his stomach with a sharp and familiar smile.

“Be careful with the lad,” she said to the other women.

“Is it awake?”

The world was like a car on a dirt road.

“Yes.”

“Good. Give it here.”

He was handed away, and a rattish woman bit his cheek. He could smell her sour breath and see her yellowing teeth. The bite stung like a bee sting. She sprinkled grey powder on it. The powder smelled of rotted blueberries and chinese ink.

The scar on his cheek was there, always proof that the dream had happened. He’d stopped being scared of the dream a good while ago. He was just pissed whenever it began because it meant that any lucidity he’d gained in his dreams was lost. And the Rat Woman was going to bite him, over and over again, and he couldn’t do shit about it.

He hated feeling like a child.

Lance woke up before his alarm because his back itch had grown so terrible it felt as if fire ants were crawling over his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to roll over, but it burned.

He let out a low string of oaths.

He pulled on the loosest, silkiest shirt he owned and dredged into the bathroom to do his makeup. Even the light and thin material rubbed his shoulders the wrong way.

His back didn’t stop itching- in fact, it got increasingly worse over the course of the day to the point where he was practically clawing out of his own skin with the agony. He pinched his arms to stop his hands for going back for just one scratch.

He just wanted the day to be over, but he had swim last period, and there was no way he was skipping his favorite class if he’d made it through the rest of the day.

He stood at the edge of the pool, shivering, looking at his toes.

“Lance, what the fuck is that?” Asked Mike, his voice mocking. “Are you cleaning yourself right?”

“What?” Lance asked, turning.

“Your back.” Mike said, his nose crinkling. “Is it contagious?”

Lance tried to get a good look at his back, but all he saw was a bit pink skin. Nothing to fuss over.

“Hey, Mr. Rigby! I think Lance has a rash!”

The gym coach walked over and put a rough hand on Lance’s shoulder and turned him so he was facing away from him.

“Oh, Crikey, Lance. You should go to the nurse’s office. It looks bad.”

“Ok.” Lance said, desperate to get at least into the locker room.

 

“Don’t scratch it.” The nurse said, clucking her tongue. “We don’t want it to spread.”

“God, but it really itches.” He said, rubbing his arms.

“Yeah, I’m sure it does. I’ve never seen anything like it. Go home and then go to the doctor, ok?”

“Yeah.” Lance said, but he just wanted to go home and sleep.

When the final bell rang, Lance rushed to his locker and pulled out all of his books and shoved them into his bag. He held it across his chest and went two steps before running into Keith and dropping it all.

“Are you ok?” He asked, leaning down to help pick up the books. Lance snatched the book he was holding. “You’re just the person I was looking for-”

“I can manage fine, thanks.”

“Oh.” Keith said, his face falling. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

Lance snatched the rest of his books and brushed past him.

As soon as he got home, he went straight to the bathroom and stripped off his shirt. His back was red and angry, the skin covered with cracking lines. He touched it, and winced. He always took good care of his skin. Ever since he’d hit puberty, he’d done everything he could to keep his entire self free from dry skin and acne. How this could’ve happened was a mystery to him.

He ran a shower, and as soon as he stepped into the steamy water, he flinched back. The hot water was incredibly painful, so he turned it as cold as he could and stayed in until he couldn’t help shivering and his nose was like a dripping faucet.

He patted his back dry, careful of the cracking skin.

He put on his silk pajamas and went downstairs and filled ziploc bags with every tray of ice they had. Laying on them made the sharp edges of the cubes dig into his back and it was even more uncomfortable. So he lay on his stomach and tried to put as many on his back as possible.

He was asleep within minutes.

Hours later, Maria, who must’ve come over for dinner that night, pounded on his door.

“Lancito! It’s dinner time!”

“I’m not hungry! Go away!”

“Jesus, grumpy pants.”

Lance groaned and switched a bag full of water for one with a few pieces of ice.

The next time he woke up, his back had stopped itching, but a dusky scent filled the room. He could barely move his legs, and his back felt stiff.

He stumbled into the bathroom and peeled off his sweat covered shirt. The redness was gone, but his back was split open, two slits about a foot long and two centimetres wide, filled with a glossy blue substance.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “It’s like some shit from Alien, jesus.” Against his better judgement, he poked one of the holes, the wider one. A blue glob fell out, pressure he didn’t know he had relieving. It hung from his back, formless and crumpled.

“If this shit becomes sentient and eats me, I guess I’m screwed.” Lance said, poking it again. It was warm, and weighed heavy where it was still attached to his back. Regardless, it felt better where it came out, so he poked the other side. The hole was more closed, but the blue was still visible inside of it, so he tried flexing his back to get the hole to expand. When that didn’t work, he leaned forward to touch his toes and felt it release. When he stood, he examined the globs in the mirror. They reminded him of something- when he’d been in third grade, he’d grown caterpillars, and when the first one came out of it’s cocoon, it looked wet and crumpled.

“No way,” he said out loud.

The clumps unfurled and dried, lightening as they did.

“No _way_ ,” he said again, looking at the wings that came from his back. “Lance McClain, the weirdest boy in school, has Wings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol :3c


	5. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth be told i started a new novel and i forgot abt this sorryyyyyyyyyy but hey i finished the chapter and i rlly love this au so i doubt i'll actually abandon it ever so :P yayayay have fun

Mom! Dad!” Lance said, running into their room.

“Sweetie? What time is it?”

“Three am. That’s not the point. The point is... god, um. Did you... like, um, do drugs before you had me? Is that what this is?”

“What? Drugs? Son, are you in trouble?”

“No! I’m... look!” Lance fumbled for their lightswitch and the room was suddenly too bright.

“I don’t understand.” His mom said. “Is that a costume piece? For a dance concert?”

“No! Mom, these are real.” He walked over to her side of the bed. “Feel them.”

His mom touched them gently, then tugged lightly on one, and when it didn’t come off, pulled.

“Ow!” Lance yelped, pulling away. “They’re attached!”

“Marco, look at this. I think they’re real.”

“Don’t be silly.” His dad said, his voice still cloudy with sleep. He skipped the gentle examination and yanked so hard on one of Lance’s wings that he could _swear_ he heard something tear. Tears sprung to his eyes as he jolted away.

“That hurts!” He cried. His father no longer looked asleep.

“Lance, what’s the meaning of this?”

“I don’t know! You tell me! Was it drugs? Radiation? Government testing? I know you were struggling with money when I was born, was it-”

“No, honey. You’re our son, we love you, but...”

“But what?”

“I didn’t give birth to you.” His mother said. “We adopted you when you were three months old. We never learned much about-”

“I was _adopted_?”

“We’d had two miscarriages-”

“Yeah, like six kids wasn’t enough already?” Lance said, his tone biting.

“The lawyer came to us-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were waiting... till you could handle it.”

“When would that be? Huh? I don’t-” He pursed his lips. “I don’t know who you are. Not anymore.”

“Lancerae, you’re our son-”

“No! I’m not. I’m a kid some sketchy-ass lawyer handed you.”

“Language!” His mother reminded.

“You’re not my real mom!” Lance said.

His mom looked stung, and Lance thought about taking it back. But she wasn’t. She’d lied to him. All his life, she’d lied to him.

“Do they work?” His father asked. “Can you fly?”

Lance twitched his wings. He could move them by flexing his shoulders and back. “I don’t know.” He said. He beat them fast, then faster, until it felt like his back was burning. “I don’t think so.” He said quietly.

“Well... do you want us to tell your siblings?”

“No.” Lance said. “I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve told you.”

“Lance-”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He turned off their light and walked back to his room, stomach twisting.

What the fuck? Why the fuck?

Fuck.

Lance half-slept until even his mother had left. When he sat up, his wings twitched in the blankets and it took a decent minute to undo them.

He looked over his shoulder to admire them- in the confusion of last night, he hadn’t really examined them. Blue veined with purple and fading red more towards his back, they were gorgeous. Each was taller than him, above his head to barely above the ground, they were thin, like dragonfly wings, almost transparent.

They were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Was that narcissism? Maybe.

He put on some leggings and left his chest bare and went to the basement. He put on the music from his solo and began to dance, trying to incorporate his wings into the dance.

It was the same as when he started to use his arms instead of _just_ his feet. He felt clumsy, the wings giving him power rather than drag, or drag rather than power, or just confusing him and hitting into walls that shouldn't've been there.

Eventually, he gave up on trying to do choreography and began to do some of the across the floors that he did in dance practice. When he began to do leaps, he tried beating his wings in the air. Even if he wasn’t actually flying, he could make it look like he was.

On his third time across, it happened. It was barely longer than his normal leap, maybe two counts, but his float moment was definitely longer. Euphoria filled him. Immediately, he turned to do another. He beat his wings even faster, and this time it was definitely longer, and Higher, and he hit his head on the low ceiling.

When he came down, he swore, softly, barely able to believe himself. Then he got up and ran up the stairs.

Above the entryway in his house, there was a two level area, because of the stairs. After shoving some furniture around, there was adequate space for him to dance, and to leap, and to _fly_. Eventually, he didn’t even need to run, simply jump, and he was airborne. When he hit his head on the ceiling of the entryway, he sighed. He had to go outside, he _had_ to.

So he went upstairs and tried to make his wings fall flat against his back. They were so big, and so... much. With more than a decent amount of finagling, he folded them flush to his back, and their sheer size meant some of them had been sucked back into the cavity which they fell from. He could fit a shirt on-even one of his more snug ones, and there wasn’t even an odd wrinkle. He could probably wear a rashguard and still be in his swim class, although he’d have to avoid everyone while changing.

Then with a smile only to himself, he left the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are short huh  
> I know where im headed  
> Trust my haiku please


	6. Skulk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He zipped up his makeup bag and shoved it in the cabinet, and then went into his room and closed his hat drawer.
> 
> He was Lancerae, he had fairy wings, and if he couldn’t show that off, then he might as well show off the rest of his strangeness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol too many orig. works happening. Have fun with this bsed chapter its super short but hey why not all the rest of them were too

The woods behind the school were thick and luscious, a few footpaths criss-crossing them. There were a couple places with overturned barrels scorched with old firepits and beer cans, naturally, and if you went about a half a mile in, you’d cross the train tracks. There was even an old schoolhouse built in the typical new english style that everyone swore was haunted, but so many parties had been thrown there, the place was trashed and graffitied, so Lance had never gone. Lance snuck around into the woods and found a clearing with short, hard scrubgrass, probably about a half mile from the highschool. He stripped off his sweatshirt and flexed his back, his wings twitching.

The crisp air stung his arms and he sashayed forward, then took three long, powerful steps and was airborne. He whooped, uncaring of his momentum, and flew higher than he tought was possible, before smacking stomach first into the bough of a tree.

He grunted, the wind knocked out of him suddenly and sharply. He scraped his torso as he fell down to the ground, bruising his tailbone.

He groaned, rolling over roots and leaf litter.

“Alright,” he groaned, laying on his back and staring at the threadbare canopy above him, turning red and orange and brown. “Liftoff achieved. Now to land.”

He set an alarm on his phone so he’d be home before the rest of his family, and started to practice.

Flying was hard work, and before long, he was satchurated with sweat and wishing he’d brought water with him. As he pulled himself up from sitting, he saw a face in the trees, pale, so it stood out against the dark trunks and black brown briars. The dark eyes seemed to be staring past him, so Lance turned, looking at his wings and the forest beyond. When he whipped his head back, the face was gone.

Lance didn’t dally after that, and went home.

The next day, he got up and folded his wings in, putting on a plum v-neck and olive green pants, and walking into the bathroom for his makeup.

He touched one of the more prominent of his spreckles. His back was sore, but it felt like he had boundless power.

He zipped up his makeup bag and shoved it in the cabinet, and then went into his room and closed his hat drawer.

He was Lancerae, he had fairy wings, and if he couldn’t show that off, then he might as well show off the rest of his strangeness.

“Lance!” Pidge said, running up and grabbing his cheeks. “Your face! It’s so sparkly! Why no foundation?”

Lance pulled her hands away. “I found something out a few nights ago.”

“That your ears are pretty? Cause man, I knew.”

“No. I’m adopted.”

“What? No! Whaaaaat? No, no way!”

“Yes way.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Can you believe it?”

“Nuh-uh. Why would your parents keep that from you? I call cruel and unusual punishment.”

“They said they were waiting for the right moment. Now I feel like my whole life was a lie.”

“Yeah, no duh. Mom still tells me that Matt’s going to boarding school.”

Lance winced, and Pidge went quiet. Matt had gone missing when Pidge was six. Matt had been fourteen.

“Yeah,” Lance said quietly. “Something like that.”

The school day continued normally, even though Lance had wings growing from his back.

“Hey, Lancey boy! What are your ears doing out?” Mike called.

“Dunno,” Lance called back. “What is your fly doing down?”

Mike’s golden brown faced turned shockingly red as he checked his pants, and Pidge snickered.

She patted him on the back. “Alright, I’ve gotta go to ap com. See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, see you.” Lance smiled as Pidge walked away, and then began whistling as he strode to his locker.

“Hey, Lance!” Called a not-too familiar voice. Lance closed his locker door and turned face-to-face with Keith. “Hey,” he repeated, slightly out of breath and with a tense expression.

“Hey.” Lance said, smiling.

“You look... um... you look good.” Keith said, biting his lip and smiling. Was it just him or did those teeth look sharp?

“Thanks.” Lance said, running his hand through the back of his hair. “Um... did you need something?”

“Oh yeah.” He glanced over his shoulder. Coming from any other guy, that would’ve looked nervous, but he just looked like he was double checking whether or not he was being followed. “I was wondering... are you free on Saturday?”

“Saturday? I think I have practice in the morning, but after eleven I’m free.”

“Oh. Do you... do you want to have lunch?” He smiled, but it looked brittle. “I know a great place for a picnic.”

“Um... yeah, sure.” Lance smiled again. “In the woods?”

“Yeah. It’s fun to explore.”

Lance smiled again. “So long as you promise not to take me out and murder me, I’m good.” He laughed, but Keith’s face fell.

“What? It’s a joke.”

“I’d never do that.” Keith said. “So... that’s a yes to lunch?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at noon.” He smiled- genuinely this time- and turned off down the hall. Lance looked at his back.

“You don’t even have my address.” He muttered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters?? Will probs get longer. Might combine some when it gets longer. Idek im tired. Have fun


	7. Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith led him to the school- not necessarily where Lance would like to spend his Saturday unless it was in the dance room. They cut through the parking lot and jumped the fence behind the practice field, and started to trek through the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this up into two chapters? Because yes. Why not. High tension. Also??? Keith is
> 
> Complicated
> 
> So
> 
> Please enjoy

Lance had many interests- he was, of course, a complex person. The problem was that in order to pursue all his interests, he had to let a few drop.

Which led to the dilapidation of his treasured garden.

The plot behind his house had grown from his mother’s functional garden into his, multitasking, beautiful functional decorative everything garden. His mother wasn’t even really allowed to step foot in it. The morning practice had been cancelled by matter of serendipity, regardless of the three to nine rehearsal they had the next wednesday in order to make up for it.

So in the morning he’d already set apart to be productive, Lance spent his hours in the garden. He’d always been a trick with plants- in kindergarten, they’d raised peas, and his had grown a foot before the rest of the class’s had sprouted. Since then, he’d found peace in the plants he raised. He knew each of the scientific and common names- those in both english and spanish- what they could be used for, and how to differentiate between the plants and their mock counterparts.

It was well into october, and most of the other gardens around had withered and died. But most of the plants in Lance’s sanctuary were still lush and green as they had been that summer. He set to mulching and trimming them, harvesting the last few green tomatoes before the first frost came. The work was hard, and listening to debussy on his phone made time seem lethargic.

“Lance!” His mom said, pulling out one of his earbuds. “That boy Keith is going to be over soon, right?”

Lance checked the time on his phone quickly. If he was on time, Keith would be over in about ten minutes. If he even knew how to get to his house.

Lance still hadn’t told him.

Lance rushed inside and changed from his dirt-caked gardening clothes into something vaguely acceptable. Not a minute after twelve, there was a knock on the door. Lance rushed to answer it.

“Hey.” He said, leaning against the doorframe, closing the door against his side.

“Hi,” Keith said, his sharp- toothed smile slipping.

“Those your cats?” Lance asked, looking down at the two mangy animals at his feet.

“Nah,” Keith said. “They just followed me here.”

“That’s...”

“Weird, I know.” He laughed. “You... um, you ready to go?” He stood on his tiptoes, trying to look over Lance’s shoulder.

“Yes.” Lance said, closing the door and slipping out. “Sorry. My parents are... they’re weird when I bring... p-people over.”

Keith laughed softly. “I haven’t even tried to introduce anyone to my aunt yet. She’s been... strange since we moved. My brother as well.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t spend much time at home anymore.”

Lance was about to provide some semblance of comfort when Keith shook his head.

“Which just gives me more time to explore this place.” He held up a wicker basket. “So, I did say I had a good picnic place.”

Keith led him to the school- not necessarily where Lance would like to spend his Saturday unless it was in the dance room. They cut through the parking lot and jumped the fence behind the practice field, and started to trek through the woods.

“So... I heard from Plax that practice got cancelled. What were you up to all morning?”

“Gardening.”

“You like to garden?

“Love it. Always have.”

“I don’t know two things about it,” Keith admitted. “Not really my thing.”

“Well, I sure hope that cooking is,” Lance said. “I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starved.”

“Oh, really? We can stop sooner if we want. There’s a nice spot ahead. It’s not the spot I was aiming for, but it’s close.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Shut up for a hot sec, okay?”

Lance quieted and listened to the sounds of the forest. There was the soft babbling of a creek, not too far away.

“I didn’t know water ran through here!” Lance said.

“Yeah. Come on.” Keith turned away and started hiking again.

The stream was never wider than three feet, full of wide flat stones that were indicative of a larger flow once upon a time.

“There’s a dam a few miles upstream.”

“You’ve hiked to it?”

“Once or twice.” Keith picked up one of the stones and tossed it up. “I feel at home in nature, you follow?”

“Yeah.” Lance said softly. “Me too.”

They passed nearly a dozen good spots for a picnic, in Lance’s opinion, but Keith didn’t slow. Finally, when Lance’s stomach had actually began to make noises, they passed a turn in the creek and Lance saw the waterfall.

It was tiny, no more than four feet high, burbling over stones and logs. It was made by the fall into a little gulch that was made from the drop off a huge flat stone. Keith tossed the basket up and clambered up the rock in a matter of seconds. Even with a running start, Lance still needed Keith’s help to get on top of it.

“I had no clue that places like this were back here. I thought it was all trash trees, beer bottles and wrecked school houses.”

“There are some places humans don’t like to touch.” Keith said, taking out a neon, fish-patterned shower curtain and laying it out on the stone.

“Human?” Lance said. “Like you’re not?”

Keith glanced back at him, crossed his arms over his chest. “What else would I be?” He asked, and laughed. Lance narrowed his eyes, but sat down.

On one hand, Keith was nice. He was friends with Plax- she had a good judge of character- he didn’t seem to be overtly malevolent. And not to mention, damned attractive.

On the other hand, the not children. He was mysterious as all get out, _human?_ Who said things like that?

And the cats.

The cats were weird too.

“Anyways, I know you said you hoped cooking was my strong suit, but unfortunately, it isn’t. So... I hope you like pizza.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human? Keith are you... not human?? Oh how weird.
> 
> Also i realized theres literally no reason for Lance to believe that keith doesnt want to murder him
> 
> Further question- does keith want to murder him?? Idk man tjise smiles seemed p r e t t y forced. Guess youll have to wait to find out.


	8. Bluebell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He glanced around the woods, noting the fine layer of dust that had gathered on the basket and the food. The wind picked up, catching leaves in little whirlwinds before settling back down. A cloud blocked out the sun, and the forest seemed to bleed into shades of grey. He frowned. Something definitely wasn’t right.
> 
> He brushed off his clothes and stood, looking all the way around him. The waterfall sounded muted even though he was standing right by it. It seemed like all he could hear was the sound of the wind through the leaves, and then-
> 
> It was like windchimes, soft and steady, growing louder. Lance whipped his head around, but there was no one there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo jus did this up have fun
> 
> I always write these chapters in bursts and hen not at all so enjoy

  
“Pizza?” Lance asked as Keith sat down.

“Yeah. You don’t like it?”

“No, I like pizza plenty. Never had it for a picnic before, though.”

“Well, I guess we’re having it now.” Keith said, laying out the two large boxes, then pulling out a few eggs.

“Not so sure about Pizza, but I love hard boiled eggs,” he said, reaching for one.

“Boiled?” Keith asked, picking up one of his own. “I’ve never thought of doing that before. I just eat them raw.”

Lance nearly dropped his egg before realising it would probably splatter all over his pants. “You eat raw eggs?”

“Don’t you?” He tapped the eggs against the rock so it cracked, then peeled away a bit of eggshell, holding it up carefully. Then he put his lips to the hole created and sucked the egg out.

“The trick is,” he said, pausing to wipe the corner of his mouth, “to try and cut the yolk on the jagged edge of the shell so that you don’t have to open the egg up the rest of the way to fish it out, cause that makes your fingers all sticky.”

“Nope. No way. Ew.” Lance put the egg back gently.

Keith laughed, taking his egg from where he put it down. “More for me,” he said.

Lance took one of the slices of pizza and watched as Keith slurped another egg.

“That’s gross.” He said.

“It’s nutritional. And practical.” Lance rolled his eyes and leaned back on his elbows, breathing in the crisp october air.

“Sure.” He said softly.

Later, Keith was cut off mid sentence by a beeping. He pulled something from his pocket, the size of a flip phone, and frowned.

“I’ll be right back. I have something to do.”

“In the middle of the woods.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I was _trying_ to be _discreet_.”

Lance laughed. “Ok, Jesus.”

He stood and brushed off his pants. “Stay put.”

“Course, grumpy pants.” Lance frowned as he watched Keith’s back walking into the woods. He sighed, lying down and looking at the sparse red-brown canopy overhead. The crisp breeze and the scrattery sound of the leaves left Lance relaxed, and his eyes slowly drifted closed.

He knew he couldn’t have been asleep long because when he woke up, the light was the same and Keith was still gone. A few minutes, a catnap. He might’ve been asleep longer, but that would be odd.

He glanced around the woods, noting the fine layer of dust that had gathered on the basket and the food. The wind picked up, catching leaves in little whirlwinds before settling back down. A cloud blocked out the sun, and the forest seemed to bleed into shades of grey. He frowned. Something definitely wasn’t right.

He brushed off his clothes and stood, looking all the way around him. The waterfall sounded muted even though he was standing right by it. It seemed like all he could hear was the sound of the wind through the leaves, and then-

It was like windchimes, soft and steady, growing louder. Lance whipped his head around, but there was no one there.

“Hello?” He said, and his voice cracked, not quite sure of how to work yet. “Hello?” He said again, stronger. “Keith?” The chimes grew louder still, and they began to carry a melody. He squinted into the woods, and realized he wasn’t sure exactly from which way he’d come. They’d hiked upstream, right? Which meant that if he hiked downstream, he’d get out. He didn’t want to loose sight of the waterfall, but....

He saw it, in the distance, and he was surprised that it hadn’t caught his eye before. A bluebell, almost turquoise in its vibrancy, which stood out against the muted browns of the forest. Figuring it wasn’t too far from the stream, he jumped over and went to it, squatting and examining it.

“What are you doing out this late, sweetie?” He asked, lifting one of the flowers carefully. “Surely you’re not in season. I’ve never seen a bluebell quite this color, either.”

The wind passed through again, and the chimes rang through the woods. Carefully, Lance reached his fingers to the base of the stem and used his nails to cut through it. He raised the flower to his nose and breathed in.

The scent was heady and sweet, like a rose and totally disconnected from the sort of musky sugarwater smell he knew bluebells had. He frowned and looked up, where he spotted another bluebell, the same vibrant color. He scowled, looking at the flower, the veiny petals and the way the edges separated and flipped. Definitely a Virginia Bluebell. He had some at his house. But the color, the smell- definitely wrong.

In the corner of his eye, he saw another one. So he went to it. Bluebells had an interconnected root system, so they generally grew in patches, sometimes even fields. But not spaced out like that.

He walked over and looked at the flower in comparison to the one in his hand. The same. Then, drawn by some odd compulsion, he picked that one too. And then he spotted another and picked it. He followed them as if they were a path laid out for him, and stopped thinking about how odd they were. Sometimes his head just did that- slid him into autopilot on tasks that shouldn't've had a pilot in the first place.

Soon he had a full armfull of the bluebells, so many that he was having trouble carrying them. He saw a little white building through the trees. He frowned, squinting at it. The school building? No, it was dilapidated for that. The school building had been trashed and graffitied. This was simply fallen into disrepair.

It was a church. Simple, puritan, stone. The roof was rotted and collapsing in, and the door was gone, revealing the dusty corroded insides. The light from the western window- the one at the back end of the church, directly above the little Mary figure which seemed to be only thing in the little chapel. There weren’t even pews.

Lance walked in, looking at the dust motes caught in the light.

“Hey there, little Bluebell.” Said a soft voice, and Lance glanced up. A short guy, compact and lithe, like a gymnast. His hair was white, long and fluffy, like one of those persian cats. He had yellow eyes and he glanced up and down Lance like he was something on a movie poster, not quite like he was a girl, but like he was an object that looked like something like that.

Lance swallowed stepping back. The dude was on the point of the stone wall, directly over the west window and the mary. He smiled, sharp, and his ears twitched. Cat ears.

A them.

He was like the cheshire cat as he smiled. Fucking dangerous, that was how he looked.

“Everyone’s making a big fuss over you. Do you even know why?”

“Lance!” Keith shouted, and he turned, looking at the other boy in the doorway.

“Hey, Keithy boy.” Said the smooth voice.

“Get out of here,” Keith growled, bristling. Lance started to turn, but Keith grabbed his arm. “This isn’t your turf, Low. Now get out of here before I break your leg again.”

When Lance looked over his shoulder, the guy was gone.

“Come on, let’s go.” Keith said.

“The picnic?”

“Here’s your phone,” Keith said, slipping it into his hand. “The rest I’ll go back for.”

“The flowers...” Lance said.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get them in water. I don’t... Jesus, I can’t explain what just happened, ok?”

“Keith?”

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“This was a mistake.”

“No kidding.” Keith said, glancing behind him one last time before ushering Lance out the door.


	9. Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re taking me to that party though, right?” She asked. “On Halloween?”
> 
> “I doubt there’s gonna be alcohol, Pidgey, if that’s what you’re after.”
> 
> “No way! I’m just making sure you don’t abandon me for some bad boy stereotype.”
> 
> “He isn’t a stereotype!” Lance defended, raising his head.
> 
> “Sure, love.” She said. “Come on now, these sine flowers aren’t going to graph themselves.”

Keith didn’t talk as he shoved Lance through the woods, turning him at odd places when they got to town, taking them probably ten minutes longer than it should to get to his house. Keith kept glancing over his shoulder.

“What is going on?” He asked, breathless, on the stoop to his back door.

Keith looked over his shoulder again. “I’ll tell you later, okay? Like,” he grimaced, rummaging around in his pockets. “Here,” he said, scribbling something on a crumpled piece of paper that looked like it had been used for geometry notes at some point in time. “This is my address and my home phone. There’s a Halloween party there on, well, Halloween...”

“That’s a tuesday, right?”

“So?”

“It’s a school day.”

“Do you have practice?”

“No, but that’s not the...”

“Great, I’ll see you then.” He turned to go.

“Wait!” Lance called, grabbing his arm. “Who was that, in the church? How do you know about the little people?”

“You’re not an idiot, Lance,” Keith said. “So don’t act like one.” He shook off Lance’s grip and walked away. Lance scowled. Keith had been nice, civil, goddamn sweet, and then whatever had happened happened and all of a sudden he was an absolute grump.

“Jesus.” Lance said, shouldering open the screen door.

Half an hour later, Pidge was lying on his bed, scratching his dog’s head, and pointedly ignoring her homework.

“Jesus, he’s so frustrating! More frustrating than...” Lance said, then slapped her paper, “than polar equations! I don’t even know like, what the fuck happened!”

“Maybe he drugged you. I mean? A weird church and a cat person? It sounds like some middleschool fantasy novel bull.”

“You know, you’re the age that reads that bull,” he said, shooting her a quick glare. “Literal twelve year old.”

“Hey! I skipped two grades!”

“You’re not even old enough to have a facebook!”

“Shaddup!” She groaned, slapping him absentmindedly. “But seriously. Have you seen the way he dresses? All black and red, ripped up crap, his goddamn hair? He’s the type to do lines in the locker room.”

“He’s not, though! Plax says he has a four point oh. His math classes are harder than mine!”

“Wait, he’s an honors kid?”

“Yeah. Honors everything, no bullshit.”

“Wow,” she said, rolling over. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“I know.” Lance said, burying his face in his arms. His dog got up and laid across his shoulder blades. “He’s also a jerk. He’s just frustrating!”

“Frustrating.” Pidge repeated. “Man, you’re so gone for him.”

“Thanks, Pigeon.” Lance said, his voice muffled by the bedsheets. “I’d figured that out.”

“You’re taking me to that party though, right?” She asked. “On Halloween?”

“I doubt there’s gonna be alcohol, Pidgey, if that’s what you’re after.”

“No way! I’m just making sure you don’t abandon me for some bad boy stereotype.”

“He isn’t a stereotype!” Lance defended, raising his head.

“Sure, love.” She said. “Come on now, these sine flowers aren’t going to graph themselves.”

“Yuck.” Lance said, his head falling back into his arms.

Four days later, Lance pulled on a black hoodie and leggings, penciling in a triangle nose and whiskers on his face, and put on the felt ears that cost fifty cents at the dollar store.

“A cat?” Pidge said, opening his door without knocking. “Lame.”

“You, dear Pigeon, are dressed as the little green man. You're not allowed to talk to me.”

“Oh, for chrissake.” She said. “Your parents gave the ok?”

“Yeah. They called Keith’s house and everything. Did you know he lives with his grandmother and uncle? Kinda a weird combination, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sorta.” Pidge said.

“Whatever, though.” Lance said. “Come on.”

Keith’s house was one of the big houses made with old southern money, forgotten when whatever old bat who had been too attached to her money to have any kids died. The yard was dying, the roof patchy and two of the nautical style windows broken.

“Do you think that they styled it like this for Halloween?” Pidge asked, eyeing the group of three that chatted on their way up to the door.

“Somehow, I doubt it.” Lance said, carefully stepping over one of the broken steps. “This place looks like it needs a little more love before it’s totally... habitable.”

“Hey, Lance!” Keith said from the open door. “I see you brought a friend.”

“Hi. I’m Caitlin.” Pidge said, holding out her hand to shake. Lance sideyed her as she offered only her born name, but she simply made cold, unwavering eye contact with Keith.

“Hi, welcome,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “C-come on in.”

Pidge brushed past him.

“Sorry about her.” Lance said, leaning against the doorway. “Her brother was dating a guy who looked kinda like you when he went missing. He’s still the number one suspect but... neither him or her brother have been seen in years.”

“That’s awful.” Keith said. “Is there anything I can-”

“Don’t worry,” Lance said, “she’ll warm up to you.”

Keith bit his lip and glanced behind him. “Yeah. I’m sure she will.”

They lapsed into silence for a few more seconds before they both spoke at the same time.

“So-”

“About-”

“You first,”

“No, no you go.”

Keith flushed and looked away, mussing his hair absentmindedly. “Um, I hope you like the party. There’s even eggs, I... I boiled them like you suggested.”

“Oh, ok.” Lance said. “But, about what happened on Saturday.”

“Hey, Keith!” Plax shouted, running up the steps to them. “Lance! Glad to see you here!”

“Oh yeah, you too, Plax. I thought you had a competition today? Where... Balmera High?”

“Yeah, we left right after competing though. Shelton’s wife is having her third kid, so...”

“Oh, alright. So that’s why you’re still in show makeup?” Lance said, rubbing some glitter off her cheek.

“Yeah,” she said swatting his hand away. “And my team jacket. Bugger off.”

“Aw Plax, this is a costume party though.” Lance said.

“I’d rather come like this than a dollar store black cat.” She teased, flicking Lance’s headband. “Catch ya later, ok? I’m going to see what this party has by way of food, cause I’m broke, and competitions suck.”

They all laughed lightly as she moved into the crowd.

“Don’t worry Lance, I love your costume.” Keith said, his violet eyes catching him and ensnaring him, and for a second it was like he couldn’t move.

“Th-thanks.” He stammered. Keith glanced away, and Lance let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Yeah.” He paused, pointedly looking away from him. “We’re blocking the doorway. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait, Keith-” Lance protested, but he’d already faded into the crowd. “Cryptic bastard.” He muttered.

The party smelled like teenager. In the living room, there was a temporary stage set up, and a bunch of high school kids were playing- badly- while the room of maybe fifty, sixty people jumped to the unsteady beat. The chandeliers were actually lit with candles, and Lance counted four candleabras of varying style, all with the barest squicks of candles still burning and wax piling up around their bases. They weren’t even red, like the Halloween candles in stores, but a yellowish white and were, as Lance observed when an older woman switched out a dying candle for a new one, handmade. The food table was relatively untouched, probably due to the nature of the food. There were two plates with at least two dozen eggs to each of them, one labled ‘RAW’ and the other ‘HARD BOILED’. Six varieties of cheese in varying states of decay were untouched, and four boxes of pizza, all with anchovies, Lance noted with dismay, had all been opened, but no pieces had taken. Little skulls, of mice and birds and other things were stung around like popcorn on Christmas. Pidge was inspecting one when Lance came and fiddled with it.

“It feels real,” he commented. Pidge went green and backed off. “Man, they sure went all out.”

“Sure.” She said, biting her lip. “Man, maybe you were right, about the whole ‘not human’ thing,”

“Oi, Lance!” Lyra said, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a group of the company dancers. He turned behind him, but he’d lost Pidge in the crowd. He smiled and laughed and talked with them, trying to find either Keith or Pidge. The band took a break and a spotify add played before a Halloween playlist started. A new wave of people fell into the living room, and Lance excused himself into the entry hall, and found himself almost pushed up the stairs by a bunch of teens crawling over eachother to get into the party. His back was pressed against the tape that banned the upstairs from the guests. And, as the people stemmed, Lance noticed them. Or, actually, the fact theat they were Them. More than Lance had ever seen, since seven years ago on Halloween.

They didn’t seem to notice him, instead falling on the guests and the food like animals, which, Lance supposed, they sorta were.

Keith appeared by his side, suddenly, as if he’d just materialized out of thin air. “We’ve gotta go,” he said, slipping his hand into Lance’s, pulling him along the wall and out through the laundry porch.

“There they are!” Shouted a short boy, a rabbit them.

“Shit,” Keith said, his grip on Lance’s hand tightening, pulling him faster through the scrubby backyard.

“Wait, wait, what’s happening?” Lance asked, his heels digging into the wet earth.

“Come on,” Keith urged, tugging on him. “Better with me than them, believe me.”

“Tell me what’s going on!” He shouted. His chest tightened, and lightning cracked in the sky.

“Shit,” Keith said again. “Lance, come on, right now- Low!”

The them from the woods, the one with white hair and smile that spelled danger, had found his claws in his arm.

“I’m not letting you take all the glory for yourself, Halfa.” Said the them.

“No!” Lance said again, and lightning broke through the sky again. He just wanted this to be over, for it to have been a dream, and then the world turned white, and it hurt, and Keith was pulling on him, and his last thought before the world went black was I’ve been hit by lightning.


	10. Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cove where Shiro had dropped Keith off was the only beach on the island. The rest were severe cliff, pockmarked with salt caves. In the years following his introduction to the island, he explored them whenever he could. They were like a great system, all under the island.
> 
> The island itself was great and grassy, a short, scrubby forest on the leeward side, and a maze made of deep caverns cut into the chalk cliffs that made up the west half of the island. The school buildings were all open to the sky in the summer, just three walls and grassy steps leading down to the teaching platform. When it rained, the goblins used transfiguration to weave vines over the roof, so that it wouldn’t get wet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this at the same time as my other fic what a day I also had a camp bad baaaaaaad I’m burnt ow

The first time he saw the island, Keith thought they’d gone to the wrong one.

“Shiro,” he said, holding onto the older boy’s arm. “Don’t make me go. Please,”

“I’m the clan leader now, I can’t go with you,” he said, frowning.

“You’re only fourteen, Shiro, Please?”

“Being in the clan hierarchy is the most important duty you’ll ever have, Keith.”

“No, it’s not. Cause I’m not fullborn like you.”

“Believe me, Keith. This is for the best.”

“Let me stay with you and Gammy. Please.”

“You have to get an education.”

Keith scowled, clutching onto Shiro’s arm. “I really don’t,” he said, but Shiro lifted him up and handed him to one of the wrinkly old elders, got back into the little rowboat, and left Keith with tears streaming down his face.

“Who said that we could let a Halfa on the island?” Lotor said, slapping the back of his head. Keith wiped his tears from his face.

“You’re a halfa too,” he said, scowling.

“Yeah, half fairy.” Lotor said. “Anything’s better than half man, O’Mamora.”

“It’s still a half that’ll keep you from the clan head.” Keith sneered.

“Is that so,” Lotor said, his voice cold. “I don’t think it’ll prevent me from usurping that weak-blooded brother of your’s.”

“He’s your brother. My cousin.”

Lotor scoffed. “Technicalities. He’s more of your brother than he ever was mine.”

“Bitter, much?” Asked a bear goblin from behind him. She shoved past him and put her large hand around Keith’s shoulders. “Come on, O’Marmora.”

“Who are you?” Keith asked, allowing himself to shrink next to the large girl.

“My name’s Shay. I’m a bear goblin. Half, actually, like you. Come on, my fiancé and my brother’s’ll help you.”

“Fiancé?” Keith asked, walking next to her. “You’re not much older than me, though, right?”

She blushed and looked away. “Yeah. I’m just ten. It’s arranged.” She said nothing more. Keith glanced over his shoulder and caught Lotor’s eye as he joked with his other friends. He was only two years older than Keith, but Keith was taller already, at seven. He was actually taller than most of the goblins in his clan.

“Come on, then,” Shay said, taking his hand and leading him over the grassy hill into the main body of the island. “Let’s have you meet everyone.”

Shay’s fiancé was a tall, burly bear goblin named Hunk. Although he looked intimidating, Keith quickly learned that he was really just a sweetheart. Her two brothers were full goblin, unlike her. They were both Keith’s age, dropped off to the island a month before he.

“Me da died,” she said to Keith. “The human, ya, yaknow? And me mum came back to the land o fey and took a proper goblin to wed. But ya see, aint none of them gonna be chieftain, cause they’re younger than me, and me mum aint pure no more when she took their da to wed. I’m the one with bloodright, but they got me all tied up to Hunk so that he’ll take over when we’re grown. His da’s the most powerful warrior in the clan, see? General in the goblin revolt.” Keith nodded as she talked, explaining with her hands.

“Don’t you resent it? Being told who you’re gonna marry? I don’t think I could stand it, to be honest.” Keith said, relaxing onto the side of the grassy hill.

“Oh, no. Besides, me and Hunk ain't official or none of that. It’s just a suggestion, see, and we’re best friends due to it, so there ain’t a reason for complaint.”

“That’s nice,” Keith said.

The cove where Shiro had dropped Keith off was the only beach on the island. The rest were severe cliff, pockmarked with salt caves. In the years following his introduction to the island, he explored them whenever he could. They were like a great system, all under the island.

The island itself was great and grassy, a short, scrubby forest on the leeward side, and a maze made of deep caverns cut into the chalk cliffs that made up the west half of the island. The school buildings were all open to the sky in the summer, just three walls and grassy steps leading down to the teaching platform. When it rained, the goblins used transfiguration to weave vines over the roof, so that it wouldn’t get wet.

Keith loved the caves. Whenever there wasn’t class, he and Shay and Hunk explored the caves, mapping them out, memorizing them. The two bear goblins were more cautious than he, but they were the only ones who would go with him, and if Keith should fall through one of the caverns- which he would not- they would need to be there.

Keith had felt at home in caves since he was a kit. He’d been left with Zarkon, Lotor’s father and the Clan leader, without Judith, and without Shiro, who was at school. The dens of the Cattawampus clan were as extensive as the caves on the island. But only the chieftain and his immediates were allowed in the section that Keith lived in. Zarkon hated Keith, and his contempt showed no bounds when Judith wasn’t home. When she was, Keith simply was set to work, cleaning things that could’ve been a task for servants. When she wasn’t-

Well, Keith didn’t learn how to throw a punch by cleaning out storm drains.

One day, while Shiro was still at school but before Lotor was old enough, Judith had left to go see Honerva, the fairy who was Lotor’s mother.

Lotor was telling stories to the kits about the Snake women who preyed on the smaller varieties of goblins. And it terrified Keith to the bone. After the kits went to bed, he chased Keith through the den, threatening him with a small ceramic knife.

“I can just kick you out for the snake women to eat,” he snarled, and Keith bolted past him, deep into the hall, past Judith’s empty room into the door at the end of the hall. He’d always thought it was just a linen closet. Instead, it lead to a dark, humid cave. And humid in the Cattawampus clan meant one thing- something was alive.

Hesitantly, Keith felt his way into the cave, and flinched when he touched the hide of something warm and living. It puttered, and soon there were a dozen surrounding him, nudging his sides. He pet them, laughing as their warm faces nosed into his pockets, looking for treats.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and he set about the beasts, naming them and scratching them- they looked like horses, but they definitely weren't herbivores- they had dog-like teeth and cloven hooves.

They became his close friends in the following years, because Lotor wouldn’t follow him into the room, and the adults seemed scared of them.

Then Zarkon died and Shiro took over- it should’ve been Lotor, but his fairy heritage meant he’d have to fight for the position, and his age meant he couldn’t. So he went to the island, free from every torment of living at home, but Lotor had free range.

And every foul opinion Keith had to him came to a head on Halloween, when the goblin children were allowed to cross into the human realm and cause general mayhem. The underclassmen were placed with various groups of upperclassmen to supervise. And Keith had the misfortune of being put in Lotor’s group.

He went through the portal timidly, keeping his head down as they fell into the streets.

“Stay by the portal, O’Marmora!” Lotor yelled. “We don’t need you weighing us down!”

Keith leaned against the wall, scowling. “Go ahead!” He yelled. “I don’t mind.”

His group, last through the portal, cackled and left without him. Keith pushed himself off the wall and followed from a distance. The portal they were returning from was different than the one they’d gone through, he’d listened when they’d explained it. They tripped kids and stole their candy, ravaged trash cans, throwing rotten food at buildings and houses. Keith followed them, righting trash bins and overturned strollers. The human world was ridiculously easy to navigate, everything so close and easy to grab onto. He became preoccupied climbing up a building just to see if he could when he realized he’d lost them. He looked around from his perch, watching as they caused havoc to the little city. It was almost quiet up there. Almost.

Then, a raven goblin alighted next to him, transforming, breathing hard.

“Someone saw Hunk.” She said. “A human.”

“What?” Keith yelped, almost startling the goblin off her perch. “What happened?”

“Everyone started goin’ after ‘im, and he started t’ throw lightning! They’re callin’ everyone t’ come back early.”

“Is Hunk okay?” Keith asked, standing.

“Hurry up,” the goblin called, and Keith sighed, finding his way off the building.

The island was in panic when they got back, goblin children crying and yelling and the elders yelling too, and Keith scowled the whole time he was heading to his dorm.

Not long after, while Keith was working on an assignment on the edge of one of the chalk caverns, only somewhat distracted by the way the water at the bottom was churning, impossibly blue and deep, salty white froth swirling in little whirlpools before moving in down the current and dissapating slowly.

“O’Marmora.” Lotor said, kicking Keith’s back. He lurched forward, watching helplessly as his charcoal stick rolled away.

“What do you want?” He asked, setting his papers aside and weighing them with a rock. He knew he answer, of course, that Lotor didn’t need a reason.

“Pretty deadly fall, huh.” He said. “Especially if you’re human.”

“I’m not human.” Keith growled.

“You’re closer to them than to us.”

“I’m not,” Keith said, shoving him.

“Prove it,” he said, shoving him back. Keith stepped back and teetered on the edge of cliff before righting himself. Lotor began to approach him again, and Keith darted away, running next to the cliff.

If you were in the middle of one of the slots of land, the narrows looked just like a field. You couldn’t tell till you were on top of a cliff that it was there. Luckily, Keith had spent as many years atop and between the chasms as he’d been on the island, seven years climbing and running and exploring, and he could maneuver the plateaus with his eyes closed. Lotor kept up with him pretty well, until Keith jumped over one that was a bit too long for Lotor to manage, and he fell down. Keith stopped, running back to the cliff to see if he’d grabbed a ledge. Apparently, instead of grappling for an outcropping, he’d tried to see if his feeble, half-made wings could save him. They couldn’t, of course.

This cavern was shallower than the ones closer to the shore, and there was no water at the bottom.

Lotor swore, just loudly enough for Keith to know he was alive. His leg was definitely broken, though.

Even though Keith rushed to get an elder, his concern didn’t dissuade Lotor from blaming him.

“He pushed me.” Lotor said. “He’s always hated me, the Halfa.” Keith didn’t even bother trying to explain that Lotor had run off the cliff all on his own accord.

Keith didn’t try to protest as they dropped him into the detention pit.

He’d heard stories of the pit during his entire attendance on the island. But now that he was down there, it wasn’t so bad. It was just a dry well, not quite enough wide enough to lay down in, but curled up, he was comfortable enough. The sky was nothing but a white dot far above. He entertained himself by telling himself the stories that Judith had regaled him with as a kit.

After the first night, Lotor and his posse appeared to pelt him with stones. Keith ended up with a split lip, a goose egg, and terrible bruise on one arm. Then Hunk, to drop some bread in, which Keith ate quickly, because if the elders found him with food in the pit, Hunk would be serving time just after his was up.

After half a day of doing nothing, and rain which chilled him to the bone, Keith was growing restless. He hadn’t been paying attention when they’d given him his sentence. He sighed, his hand flat on the side of the well, and concentrated. He called on one of his unique gifts, barely thinking about it it. The motar crumbled to dust, and he pulled away the larger stones.

“Halfa’s can’t do anything my butt.” He said.

If his knowledge of the caves was correct- which it was- there was a cave end, and he made it into the cave system without a problem.

After a bit of squeezing, he found himself in one of the small environmental caverns that they’d left some supplies and a blanket in- as Shay way another Halfa, they’d had more than one occasion to leave the dorms at night. He was warm, fed, and fast asleep in a matter of minutes.

When he returned to the island that night, it was obvious he’d fucked up, big time. Every elder and Shiro was assembled, waiting for him.

“Young man,” Elder Bii said, and Keith winced. “Effective immediately, you’re expelled from the island. You’re to return to the Cattawampus territory, for a special assignment in the goblin army.”

“The goblin army?” Keith exclaimed. “But I’m not even a full goblin. Shiro?” The older goblin offered no explanation. Hunk and Shay we’re standing behind the line of elders, and when he tried to make eye contact, Shay looked away with tears in her eyes, and Hunk out an arm around her shoulders. It was their last year on the island, (Keith couldn’t believe he was getting expelled his last year, goddamn.) and they were so close that Keith sometimes felt weird hanging around them. But now that would’nt be a problem, huh.

“Early recruitment is an honor.” Said elder Bii. “So don’t shirk it.”

Shiro put his arm around his shoulders. “Keith, come on,” he said softly. “I’ll explain at home.”

Walking off the island for the last time, Keith felt much the same as he had seven years ago. He grabbed a fistful of Shiro’s shirt, almost crying and trying to explain- I didn’t push him, I really didn’t, I didn’t know getting out of the pit was so bad, is there any way I can be unexplelled, please, I’ll be perfect-

“You really are still a kid, huh.” Shiro said, rubbing Keith’s long hair affectionately. “Only fourteen, I forget. Don’t worry, Keith. What you’re going to be doing is going to be so much better for you than a school for full goblins.” They rowed the rickety boat back across the clear waters while the full moon shone above. “Trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s been a few months but I like this fic So here
> 
> These next fewwwwww chapter is gonna be keef’s side of the story till we get to the thick of the plot *dab*


	11. Recruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Then don’t you worry about the ethics. Will you accept the mission? It will be a long time away from the land of the fae.”
> 
> “And if I refuse?”
> 
> “Well, you can’t go back to the island. You’ll begin work, I suppose. But you won’t refuse.”
> 
> “No,” Keith admitted. “I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahah this is so short bitch

When he got home, Keith was sent straight to his room, where he was commanded not leave. Frustrated, he paced, too wound up by the events of the night to sleep at al, despite the five hour journey, all which had taken place during the dark of night. He wasn’t even allowed to leave to visit his herd, which was typically the highlight of his returns. The odd horse-like creatures had grown more than Keith had over the years, and the most dominant Five all stood taller than Keith did at their shoulder. Named after the four elements and magic, Keith could practically hear Spark calling for him. They always knew when he came back, somehow, and made a whole fuss the second he stepped foot back in the den, he’d even heard the caretakers complain about it. He could feel them on the other side of his mud wall, Spark being loud and whiny, Stream comforting her and pouting about him not being there yet, Clay shoving all the others aside so he could be the first to greet him at the door, Breeze pawing at the wall they shared, because she was smart and had figured that was the most direct way to him, and Dust sitting on her ledge, surveying the events.

Judith came in for a few minutes to give him some bread and cheese, and explain that the clan chiefs were having a meeting concerning him, that his great-aunt Honerva had come from her diplomatic position to discuss things, so he must be polite.

“Can I at least go out to use the bathroom?” He asked.

“You’ve caused too much trouble already, young man.” She said, and Keith pouted, sinking into his bed.

“This is dumb.” He said.

“It’s not ideal, but it was sort of your fault. But here, I snuck you a treat.” She handed him a package of wax paper with a twisted closed top. It was cold.

“Frozen grapes?” He asked, putting the bag down on the bed and hugging her. She patted him a few times on the back before pulling away and heading to the door.

“I need to go and talk to some people.” She said. “Don’t cause yourself anymore trouble.” Keith rolled his eyes and settled back onto the bed, opening the package and eating the small frozen grapes by the handful.

“What trouble can I cause myself in here?” He said.

When he was finally allowed to leave, he couldn’t just rush to the cave with his herd. He had to sit, uncomfortable, while the chiefs of all the goblin clans surveyed him, silently. He scratched the back of his leg with his foot as the seconds stretched on. Then seconds stretched into minutes and the chief of the rat clan said-

“Well, he isn’t terrible.”

“He’s resourceful.” Said the Snake chief.

“Is he smart?”

“Yes.” Shiro said. “He can Read.” This garnered some appreciative murmurs.

“Well, can he speak?” Asked the old fairy.

“Yes.” Keith said, after he realized it was a question meant for him to answer.

“How did you escape?”

“The stones were loose. I managed to get one out and then the rest was easy going. It connected to a nearby cave system, because the freshwater carved out the salt and chalk in the caves, so it follows that the Well would be built near to a cave.”

“Alright.” Said the fairy. “He passes.”

“I pass what?” Asked Keith.

“Keith, what do you know about what happened Halloween night?”

“A boy saw Hunk. A human.”

“Did you hear about what happened next?”

“The boy... threw lightning bolts?”

“Keith, listen.” Shiro said. “Tensions are growing between the faerie oligarchy and the clans. As it stands, we’re ill-suited for war.”

“War?” Keith choked.

“Yes. War. We have a few assets on our side, but not nearly enough. We need you to go and retrieve the boy.”

“To use him?” Keith asked.

Shiro sighed. “Keith,” he said, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Are you a goblin, or a human?”

“Goblin.” Keith said with resolve.

“Then don’t you worry about the ethics. Will you accept the mission? It will be a long time away from the land of the fae.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Well, you can’t go back to the island. You’ll begin work, I suppose. But you won’t refuse.”

“No,” Keith admitted. “I won’t.”

After the meeting wherein he was surveyed, he was finally allowed to see his herd. Clay was the first to greet him, as always, a heavy head pushed into his gut and lifting him onto his back, bouncing him around the cave so the rest of the herd could come and say hello. Dust even stood, and came to nudge her nose into his hand.

“Ah Dust,” he said, scratching her behind the ears. Her whole name was pixie dust, but Keith let the first name drop, because Pixies were an everyday annoyance, and Dust was too majestic to be called Pix any more.

Spark nipped him, and he smacked her nose. Despite maturing alongside him for years, she was still the one who rebelled the most, even if it was more playful than anything now.

“They’re going to send me to the land of humans. Laypeople.” He said. “Adaal and Judith are coming with me. Shiro said he wanted to come, too, but it’s so tense right now, politically. The rest of the clans look up to him.” Clay laid his head on Keith’s lap and Stream puttered sadly. Another of the herd, Mayra, knickered.

“It’s not my fault,” he said. “Well, I mean, I agreed, but there wasn’t much else I could do.”

The herd wasn’t satisfied with that.

The next month was spent preparing him for the world of humans. He had several teachers, all of whom had lived there for some periods of time. None of them were particularly helpful, but one gave him some books, so it wasn’t all for naught.

As he was packing all his things to leave, Judith came in and sat down with him on his bed.

“I want you to have this,” she said, putting a glossy paper in his hand. It was a picture, of a cat goblin woman and a human man. The scrawled writing at the bottom of the white border stated that they were Krolia and Tex.

“Mom.” Keith said.

“Your mother loved your father very much-” she began, but Keith didn’t let her finish.

“She abandoned the Goblin’s Army when they needed her most, she lived in the human world for years while we suffered, and lost, and then she didn’t even commit to raising me there- she sent me back here! To deal with her mistakes!”

“Keith, please!”

Keith threw the photo back at her and shouldered the bag he’d packed.

“Keith please, she’s your mother,”

“I hate her! And I hate humans!”

“You’ll need to change your opinion on that when you go to live with them.”

“I’m on a mission for the goblin army,” Keith said. “I’m not there to make friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just carb loaded and sent a rlly long hormonal text to my almost-byf pls validate me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! This is gonna be funnn, all for fun, but that doesnt mean i wont finish it. Please comment, it gives me life! I brought mike back for another fic! Guess what? He's still a ho. I really did hunk dirty my last fic, so i'm planning on givinhim a major role this time round!! He'd coming!
> 
> Love y'all, def. y'all who r coming fresh off of blue lightning and the red bandit.
> 
> Have fun!! (I keep saying that. It's late. :/)


End file.
